


Biogenesis

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [140]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, MSR, Missing Scene, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Mulder called you? Scully's right, Fowley. You're a liar.</p>
<p>Also, Scully visits Mulder in the hospital before she leaves for Africa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Biogenesis

“Hello?”  


“You didn’t hear it from me, but you may want to get yourself down to American University. I just found your boy collapsed in a stairwell. He’s not looking so good.”

“Alex? What are you talking about? Is something the matter with Mulder?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s rolling around clutching his head for fun.”

“What do you mean?! Should I call an ambulance?”

“Do whatever the hell you want, Diana. Only I’m pretty sure no doctor’s going to have a clue what to do for him. Now if you hurry, you might make it before he loses consciousness completely. On the other hand, I’d pay good money to watch you try and fireman-carry him out of here.”

Krycek disconnects the call without giving Fowley an opportunity for further response, then shoves the phone in his pocket and pushes open the roof access door.

***

_“Dr. Sandoz? Hello? Dr. Sandoz?”_

He’s dead. The blood drains from her face at the sucking certainty of it, along with the knowledge that with him dies her last, best chance of finding a cure for Mulder. Shakily, she hangs up the phone and brings a hand to her mouth.

They’ve only just gotten started, only just healed enough from their last misadventure to consider more physical expressions of their feelings. Only just discovered they have the capacity to mean even more to each other than they ever imagined. She _cannot_ lose him now.

She also cannot afford to lose her composure right now. If the smoke detector, as she suspects, does have a camera in it, she still doesn’t know who put it there. Skinner clearly knows things he shouldn’t, but whether he is bugging them directly or being fed information from elsewhere, she couldn’t say. All she does know is that she can’t trust him, not now. Not with anything related to this case. And from day one she’s never trusted Fowley. With Mulder in the hospital and out of his mind, she has exactly zero allies she can turn to, at least within the Bureau. They haven’t exactly gone out of their way to try and make friends with other agents. It was never exactly a problem before, either.

She’s on her own, then. And with Sandoz dead, she realizes she has only one option available to her. An incredible long shot of an option, and possibly a terribly foolish one, but she cannot see that she has any choice in the matter.

She has to go to Abidjan. She has to find the source of the artifacts that Sandoz and Merkmallen had. Without it, she has no hope of saving Mulder, of even identifying what is wrong with him. Of course, even if she does find all the answers she needs, will he survive long enough for her to return with them? 

Scully shakes her head to banish the thought, pushing back from the desk and standing, determined. She will go home, pack a bag, and go by the hospital on her way to the airport. Even if he cannot understand or communicate, she needs to see him before she leaves.

Knowing better than to even think of trying to make travel arrangements from this office, she shuts down the computer and heads out, locking the door behind herself.

***

“Ma’am, I've already told you. He's been exhibiting extreme and violent behavior. I cannot allow you in with him.”

“And I've told _you_ , I'm not leaving here until I get to see him.” Scully stands her ground, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I am a medical doctor. If you bothered to check Agent Mulder's records, you would see that I am listed as his primary care physician. So I suggest you step aside and let me see my patient.”

The other doctor's eyes narrow. “Even if that's true, unless you are a psychiatrist or neurologist, whatever's going on with him is way outside your scope of practice. If I let you in there, and he attacks you, I'm not only putting you at risk but also putting this hospital in an untenable position with regard to liability.” 

“Look, I will sign whatever you need me to sign, all right? So forget about the liability. I know the risks, I accept the risks, now _please_. Please let me see him.”

He looks at her a long time, measuring, both doubt and annoyance in his eyes. She opens her mouth to continue arguing, but he finally shakes his head.

“Fine. But if we have to come in there and extract you, and one of my orderlies gets hurt in the process, I am holding you personally responsible.”

Releasing her breath in a relieved sigh, she nods. “Thank you.”

Her stomach has been a knotted mess since before she even arrived at the hospital; it coils tighter as the other doctor turns around and unlocks the padded room where Mulder is being held. He moves aside so she can enter, and she steps past him to open the door. Holding her breath is an involuntary response as she depresses the door handle and slowly pushes forward.

The sight of Mulder hunched in the corner makes her heart leap into her throat. When she saw him earlier, on the monitor, he was wandering around the room, muttering and yelling. Now he’s all but collapsed in on himself, forehead pressed against the wall, eyes fixed straight ahead. One hand traces circles on the floor, the movement rough and uncoordinated, the physical equivalent of badly slurred speech. As the door clicks shut behind her, he gives no indication that he’s heard anyone come in.

“Mulder?” Her whisper is barely audible to her own ears, let alone his. She swallows hard and tries again. “Mulder, can you hear me?”

When he still doesn’t move, doesn’t look in her direction at all, she takes a cautious step toward him. Then another. She continues advancing, slowly, aware of the danger he supposedly poses but so much more afraid _for_ him than _of_ him. As she approaches within a couple feet of him, she crouches down, assessing.

The hand that had been tracing circles becomes a fist, one that he brings up to his mouth. He bites one knuckle, hard, and Scully’s eyes go wide.

“Mulder, stop!” 

Her admonishment, though quiet, comes with a hand reaching out for his shoulder, and he whips his head toward her, eyes flashing like something feral. Quickly, she pulls her arm back, holding both hands up and open in front of her. He’s stopped biting himself, at least, but a darting glance down reveals that he’s drawn blood. Though he makes no additional moves toward her, he continues staring, intently, his breath coming hard and fast through his nose.

Slowly, Scully lowers her hands to her sides. Her eyes stay locked with his, and in that moment she could not be more grateful for their years of experience in the art of wordless communication. Rather than aggression in his gaze, she sees fear there. Pleading.

Love.

She sees a man spiraling out of control and trying desperately to hold it together just enough to keep her safe. 

“Mulder,” she whispers, and a tremor goes through him. “I’m so sorry, I--” It’s crushing and terrifying to see him like this, and she struggles to get the words out. “I have to go away for a while. The answers we need, if they exist at all, they are far away from here. I have to go and look for them. Mulder, I have to find them and bring them back so we can help you.”

He shudders again, squeezing his eyes shut as if the room were suddenly filled with a blinding light. His hand finds hers in an instant, his grip desperate and just short of painful. Startled, she squeezes back, trying to offer whatever meager strength or reassurance she can. He makes a keening noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment she questions everything. How can she possibly leave him like this?

Because she cannot solve this by staying. Whatever is causing it, whatever is killing him, she has to go to the source. It is the only way, even if walking away right now is one of the hardest things she has ever had to do.

She inches closer, resisting every impulse to stroke his face, hoping he will still be able to hear her over whatever is happening in his head. “I'm not going to stop fighting for you. Okay? Whatever it takes. I need you to know that I am out there, fighting. And we are going to figure this out. I refuse to lose you, Mulder, you got it?”

Abruptly, he quiets, his whole body slack against the wall and his hand limp in hers. He's still breathing hard, and his eyes are unfocused but open. His head nods, so subtly that she might have imagined it. Then his hand goes back to circling on the floor, and Scully swallows past the lump in her throat as she slowly rises and backs toward the door.


End file.
